


Five Times Flash Didn’t Get It

by counttothree



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Bullying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flash Thompson Being A Jerk, Hurt Peter Parker, Identity Reveal, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Flash Thompson, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, some crack? idk it makes me cackle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:49:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23895592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/counttothree/pseuds/counttothree
Summary: ...and one time he did.AKA five times when something about Peter’s identity slips but Flash was literally oblivious to everything.And then he wasn’t.Chapter 3 Summary:Flash had just enough time to think oh no before he was shoved against the lockers and a canvas bag was jerked over his head. His breath caught, and he immediately started to struggle out of the man’s grasp. “Get this off, I swear—“A blow to the stomach sent him to his knees, effectively cutting off his rambling as well. “Voice down, kid. Or I’ll knock you out next time.”“Don’t touch him,” a voice snarled. Was that... was that Peter?
Relationships: Michelle Jones & Flash Thompson, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Academic Decathlon Team (Spider-Man: Homecoming), Peter Parker & Flash Thompson
Comments: 44
Kudos: 276





	1. Running Late

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! So... this is my first fic ever. I mean, what better time to start a fan fiction account and spend hours writing than during quarantine?  
> I hope I’m not the only person who wants to shamelessly dangle Spider-Man’s identity under Flash’s nose and make him look like a dummy, five times. But if I’m being honest here, I really like Flash’s character. Yeah, he’s a jerk, but he makes me laugh and the movies are better with him in it.  
> Happy reading!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay. Flash is in class. He’s currently having some sort of non-verbal conversation with Peter Parker. Peter Parker, who is bleeding out in a cheap plastic chair. Peter Parker, who he doesn’t even care about, let alone who should have Flash so close to having some sort of mental breakdown in the middle of AP chem.  
> ”Penis, tell me why the heck you’re getting blood all over Martin’s classroom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s some notes y’all might be interested in at the end, so you should actually read ‘em. :)

Mrs. Martin was twenty minutes into her lecture when Peter finally stumbled into class.

“Sorry, Mrs. Martin, I’m sorry. I got caught up in some, uh, foot traffic on the way here,” he hastily explained as he straightened a chair he’d tipped over on his way in.

This _kid._ Flash rolled his eyes and couldn’t help but call out, “Foot traffic on the way to third period? I had no idea the halls were so busy.”

A few chuckles rang out, a couple glares shot his way. Among them was Mrs. Martin. “There’s no need to make a scene, Eugene.” Flash’s grin dimmed the slightest. So Parker shows up twenty minutes late and Flash gets scolded for calling him out on it? Honestly, if he was going to make up some excuse, he’d at least _try_ to make it believable. Martin was an idiot if she even believed Peter for a second.

_Foot traffic._

Peter kept his head down as he shuffled to the front of the room with a tardy slip. Mrs. Martin took it without a second glance and pointed to his empty desk, a row up and one to the left from Flash’s own. If he had the choice, Flash would’ve sat as far from him as possible. Sadly, he didn’t. 

Peter slipped into his seat and pulled out his notes. Beside him, Ned passed him his own notebook to catch up with and shot his friend a concerned glance.

”Some lizard guy,” Peter mumbled.

_Lizard guy?_ That didn’t even _begin_ to make any sense.

Flash huffed and pried his eyes away from the nerd duo. He tried to pay attention to the lesson, but his irritated brain couldn’t absorb any more information on the enantiomeric ratio even if it wanted to. He was proud that he could at least feign concentration—that is, until the muggy scent of body odor wafted it’s way down the aisle.

He concealed his gag by turning it into a cough. The _only_ thing Peter could do to get on Flash’s nerves more then he already did was to literally carry around the aroma of a dead fish. What had he been doing for the past half hour—running laps around the building?

For the first time, Flash noticed a few small details he’d initially overlooked. Like the way Peter’s breathing came out in heavy puffs and the shine of sweat along his flushed face. Like the the fact that his arm hadn’t moved from its protective cradle over his stomach since he arrived. Like the patch of red steadily seeping through the fabric of his sweater.

_The patch of red seeping—_

The tip of a pencil broke off and rolled onto the carpet. Flash was suddenly too stunned to realize that it was his own, or to stop the sudden onslaught of shaking that possessed his hands.

”Now, a mixture composed of 17% R enantiomer and 44% S...”

Peter’s eyes flicked behind him to the broken led on the floor. Almost like he’d heard it fall.

“Who can tell me the equation to find the enantiomeric excess of...”

They glanced up and met Flash’s own.

”Remember, subtract the minor from the major...”

Peter’s weary expression was suddenly replaced by something closer to what Flash must’ve looked like. Wide-eyed, pale. Fearful.

_Please keep your mouth shut._

Flash snapped out of it.

Okay, okay. Flash is in class. He’s currently having some sort of non-verbal conversation with Peter Parker. Peter Parker, who is bleeding out in a cheap plastic chair. Peter Parker, who he doesn’t even _care_ about, let alone who should have Flash so close to having some sort of mental breakdown in the middle of AP chem.

He shifted his gaze to the hem of Peter’s sweater, trying to silently ask _what on earth happened to you?_

”You can take a moment to discuss with your partners now.”

Chatter immediately filled the classroom, and Flash saw his opportunity. “What the—“

”Keep it _down,_ Flash.” Peter was now completely turned around in his seat, and he glanced around the room as if someone was going to attack him.

Ned pulled his gaze away from some girl in the corner. “Peter, do you think if I asked—“

”Penis, tell me why the heck you’re getting blood all over Martin’s classroom.”

Ned choked on his question and finally seemed to gauge the situation. At the same time, Peter’s eyes went wide as he quickly scanned his area to see if he’d left a trail. “I’m... not?”

”You know what I _mean._ ”

For just a moment, Flash’s contempt for Parker overwhelmed his momentary concern. The guy was just so _dim._

”Look, I was late because I ran into some of your... friends. They pushed me against the lockers and I got a little cut up,” he finished, quietly.

Flash wasn’t convinced. “Yeah, and I bet the locker was sharp and jagged too, right? Like you expect me to believe—“

”Since when do you _care,_ Flash?” The ferocity in Peter’s tone surprised Flash, and he suddenly forgot what he had been saying. ”We’re not friends. And you don’t... _get_ it. I got shoved into a locker. Okay?”

Flash’s lips felt numb. “Okay. Okay, geez Penis. And I _don’t_ care, so don’t get any ideas.”

Peter sighed and turned around before hugging his arm closer to his injured side. Ned seemed unsure of what to do, but finally snapped his jaw shut and jumped right into discussing the enantiomeric excess formula with his friend. Flash felt a rush of embarrassment.

Gosh, what was _that?_ No, he didn’t care about Penis, and now that he knew he wasn’t in some kind of mortal danger, Flash felt like an idiot.

But shouldn’t _Ned_ do something? He’d think at least Peter’s best friend might—

Nope. Nope, he didn’t care.

Flash bit at his lip. Was this him getting soft? What would his _dad_ say if he knew Flash almost had some weird freak out over the welfare of a scholarship student?

He pulled out his phone to get away from his own thoughts and forced himself to crack a smile when one of his buddies jeered, “Get some deodorant, Penis!”

Flash’s fingers moved as if they had a mind of their own, and he found himself browsing Instagram. A shaky video of Spider-Man swinging between two high-rise buildings drew a small, genuine smile from him. Spider-Man threw himself to the right just as a tail-like machine burst around a corner and smashed a window where he’d been only a second before. A man in a mechanical lizard suit emerged, and Flash would’ve laughed if he weren’t in such a rotten mood. Villains just kept getting more creative, didn’t they? Only moments later, his favorite superhero landed a kick to the lizard’s head and webbed him to the ground.

He scrolled down and perked up in excitement to see it was posted only ten minutes ago.

Spider-Man was seriously such a dope guy. Flash would’ve given anything to be able to talk to the dude. Or, heck, even get kidnapped or something so he could get _rescued_ by him.

On that happy note, Flash was able to get through the rest of the school day with Spider-Man on his feed and Peter Parker far from his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! First chapter done. Please please PLEASE leave a kudo and a comment to let me know if you actually enjoyed this. Since this is a 5+1, I’m planning on five more chapters. I have a few more chapter ideas pretty solidified, but not all of them, so if you have any suggestions, let me know!!  
> Also, I have never taken a chemistry class, let alone AP chemistry. I basically became an expert on the enantiomeric ratio in ten minutes thanks to Google. So basically if any of the brief science info mentioned above is totally wrong, I’m sorry.  
> By the way, more characters will be introduced and more tags will be added, so don’t worry. :) we wiLL have some dramaaa in here.  
> Oh! One more thing! For any of you AO3 vets on here, I really have no idea what I’m doing. If you wanna hmu and maybe give me some tips, it would be very much appreciated. Also, I need an editor lol if that’s a thing? I think it is.  
> Love you all!! <3


	2. Abs?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abs?
> 
> Peter Parker’s abs?
> 
> If Flash was less dumbfounded, he might’ve been embarrassed that he was openly gawking at another dude in gym—and a total nerd, for that matter. But since when did Peter Parker have abs?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAHHH!! You guys, every kudo and comment made me absolutely giddy. I’m responding to every comment just because I appreciate your feedback so much!! Keep it up :) that’s my motivation to write!  
> Anyway—we haven’t seen a lot of action or heavy stuff yet, but you just wait til the next chapter ;)  
> Please enjoy, laugh a little, and hol’ on for the next update!!

The fitness test. You either loved it or hated it.

Flash was one of the self-obsessed jocks that loved it. (Wait—there are self-obsessed jocks at a nerd school?) Yes. Yes, there are.

Not every student that enjoyed the end-of-semester fitness test was a self-obsessed jock, though. There were the non-self-obsessed jocks. There were the runners. There were the druggies that would take the day as an opportunity to light up behind the school.

But Flash? He was a self-obsessed jock.

Among other things, he was a trust fund baby, a social butterfly, and a jerk. All of these individual traits shone through as he sped around the Midtown track, $800 Balenciaga Speed Sneakers slapping the pavement, tossing jabs over his shoulder at whoever fell half a foot behind him. A chilly breeze bit through his gym shirt like it was made of tissue paper, but Flash barely felt it. He rounded a bend in the track and puffed out a laugh as he noticed who he was coming up on.

Flash slapped Ned on the back as he lapped him. The boy was barely lifting his feet off the ground, wheezing as if every breath might be his last. “Keep it up, chunky,” Flash taunted, momentarily backpedaling, “and you might finish before the school day’s over.”

”Shut it, Flash.” Peter hadn’t even broken a sweat, though if he was keeping pace with Ned, that wasn’t too surprising. He nudged his friend on the arm and assured him he was doing fine, but the damage was already done. If it was possible, Ned’s face reddened even more. He stopped jogging altogether and bent over on the side of the track.

The glare Peter sent Flash’s way was heated and well-deserved. Even Flash could see that; he may have overstepped his boundaries this time. But he was just feeling so _good._ This mile test? Piece of cake. He wasn’t called _Flash_ for no reason.

He finished in a third of the time it took for Ned and Peter to finally trudge across the finish line, and had already started on his push-ups. The boys’ entrance caught Flash’s attention, and he watched them hobble inside from his plank position on the floor of the gym.

_Thirty-one._

Whoo. Maybe he should’ve had three eggs for breakfast instead of four.

_Thirty-two._

Gosh, maybe he should’ve joined the football team like his dad suggested.

_Thirty-three._

”Come on man, you got this. Five more. Five more!”

_Thirty-four._

His friend’s words bounced around in his brain. Five more? Jake would’ve done _forty_ more.

_Thirty—thirty-five._

Is this what he gets for caring more about academic decathlon than his own health?

_Thirty..._

”Nope. Nope, we’re done.”

Flash collapsed to the ground like Gucci bags after a shopping haul. His arms were trembling noodles, his chest a heaving airbag. Whatever energy he possessed during the mile run vanished around push-up number twenty.

Lifting his head off the sweaty mat, Flash glanced up at his friend. Jake offered a thumbs-up and a pat on the back before helping him into a sitting position. “Hey, thirty-five’s not bad. Especially after that mile time. Don’t sweat it.”

“Ha, ha. I most definitely _am_ sweating it, like it or not,” Flash panted.

Jake cracked a smile. “That was lame.”

”I know. I’m sorry.”

He took a moment to catch his breath and wipe his hair off his sticky forehead before announcing, “Alright. You’re turn, muscle boy.”

While Jake did his push-ups, Flash’s eyes wandered. They landed on some girls on the other side of the gym, attempting their own push-ups. His eyebrows slowly climbed higher on his forehead as he not-so-discreetly watched them. That redhead was at the _perfect_ angle; if he were just a little closer, he could see right up her—

“Hey, what am I at? Was that sixteen?”

Flash’s gaze snapped back. “Uh—mm, yeah. That was it.”

”Uh-huh. That was actually twenty, dummy.” Jake grinned through his strained jaw and straightened his arms. “Twenty-one. Wanna pay attention to _me_ for a hot sec and help me keep track?”

Red crept across Flash’s cheeks. ”You’re perfectly capable of counting, man. Besides, I got a great view,” Flash finished as he turned back to the girls and got an eyeful of—

“Of Penis Parker?” Jake barked. His shoulders began to shake with laughter. “Don’t kid with me right now, dude, I’m trying to break a record here,” he wheezed.

Flash’s glare burned into Peter, who’d chosen to locate directly in front of the group of girls. “No! Of—of Megan Simmons, dude, she was _right there_ until Penis had to park his and Ned’s fat butts right in the way,” he grumbled.

”Yeah, ha ha. Whatever you say.”

Flash continued to scowl in his direction. “Geez, his form is _awful,_ though,” he commented. He couldn’t help but judge the kid; surely _no one_ was _that_ incapable of doing a single push-up. His butt stuck up in the air, his toes pointed awkwardly inwards. It irritated Flash that _this_ was his view now, instead of a hottie redhead in a baggy shirt.

The most insulting part? Parker was in the exact position he needed Megan to be, with the boxy gym shirt sliding up his chest and giving him a perfect view of his...

Abs?

Peter Parker’s _abs?_

If Flash was less dumbfounded, he might’ve been embarrassed that he was openly gawking at another dude in gym—and a total nerd, for that matter. But _since when did Peter_ _Parker have abs?_

Flash blinked. Abs... should mean that Peter can do a push-up. Not whatever he was looking at right now.

”Hey.”

He jumped and turned to the voice, momentarily forgetting about his surprisingly ripped classmate.

”You chekin’ out Peter?” Michelle raised an eyebrow, but other than that, her face was completely void of emotion. She lounged on the bleachers behind the boys, resting one arm on a bent knee and picking at bits of dust on her shirt.

Jake glanced sideways at his friend. “Dude, seriously?”

Flash sputtered. “I—I...”

”I mean, I didn’t think he was your type, but—“

”Michelle, he’s _jacked,”_ he blurted.

Finally, something crossed her face. Was it confusion? Amusement? Whatever it was, it was definitely calculating.

”It’s... not like that,” he continued, stumbling over his words. “Wow, even if I _was..._ I don’t _know,_ just... but Parker? Never.”

Michelle stared at him for a moment. Then she blew a strand of hair out of her face, said, “Okay,” and donned her usual bored expression once again.

Flash rubbed a hand down his face and fixed his eyes on Jake, adamantly refusing to look anywhere else. By this point, Jake was shaking like a leaf and red as a cherry, but he still moved like a well-oiled machine.

”Sixty-one,” he breathed. “Sixty-two.”

Great. Jake was breaking a grade record, and Flash was checking out Penis Parker.

”Look, dude, you should’ve seen him. I swear I’m not—“

”Don’t care. Sixty-four...”

”Seriously, he...“ Flash’s excuse trailed off. He _what?_ Fine. Peter was ripped. Somehow—though Flash literally could not _fathom_ how—Peter had managed to get the body of a Michelangelo sculpture. He could live with that.

...but why was he _pretending_ he couldn’t do a push-up? Because Flash wasn’t stupid; he could see straight through Peter’s act. Okay, maybe not _before_ the whole ab-reveal, but definitely after.

Something wasn’t adding up here.

A groan yanked Flash from his thoughts, and he watched as Jake struggled to extend his arms. “Just... just eleven more. Then I can stop,” he gasped.

Flash shook his head. He was supposed to be being a supportive friend right now, not stewing over Peter Parker. “You got it man. You’re gonna _crush_ this record.”

Up. Down. “Sixty-eight,” Jake panted.

”Nice. Ten more times.”

One choked breath later. “Sixty-nine.”

A pause. A breathy chuckle.

“Seventy.”

”Awesome, dude.”

And suddenly Flash was angry. Peter didn’t have to _pretend_ to be a wimp if he refused put effort into anything. Ditching decathlon, lazing around in gym, it was all the same.

”Seventy-one.”

Jake was _trying_ to beat a school record.

”Seventy-two.”

Flash may not have been the best at push-ups, but he still _tried._

”Seventy-three.”

When did Parker ever try?

”Seventy-four.”

Not in school, not to get the girl, not even to defend himself.

”Seventy-five.”

Maybe that’s why Flash hated him so much. He always took the easy way out.

”Seventy-six.”

Whatever. It didn’t matter.

”Seventy-seven.”

Flash just didn’t _get_ it.

”Seventy-eight.”

Flash grinned at his friend. ”That’s a record, dude.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I actually had like inner turmoil writing those mean things about Peter. Listen. I LOVE HIM. But Flash doesn’t, and that’s what we’re goin for.  
> So, looking at my writing pace, I’ll probably update once a week. But this week I’m drOWNING in studying for the AP test, so it might be a little longer. Sorry just in case :/  
> ALSO—don’t forget to leave a kudo and a comment, you know how happy those make me!!!  
> OH AND AHAHHA the next chapter is gonna be fire you guys. and there may or may not have been foreshadowing in the first chapter...  
> Love you all!!


	3. Kidnapped... Almost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flash had just enough time to think oh no before he was shoved against the lockers and a canvas bag was jerked over his head. His breath caught, and he immediately started to struggle out of the man’s grasp. “Get this off, I swear—“
> 
> A blow to the stomach sent him to his knees, effectively cutting off his rambling as well. “Voice down, kid. Or I’ll knock you out next time.”
> 
> “Don’t touch him,” a voice snarled. Was that... was that Peter?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys. I am so. sorry. for how long I took to update. I wanna promise y’all it will never happen again but I know myself too well so I’m not gonna do that.  
> Anyway, it’s a lil bit longer so hopefully that makes up for it... kinda. i’M SO SORRY know I still love you all D;

“Which European country technically shares a border with Brazil because of an oversea department?”

A sharp ding cut through the air. “France.”

”Correct. Brownie points if you can name the department.”

”French Guinea, too easy.”

Flash yawned and Sharpied another tally under ‘Team Abe’ from where he lounged at a desk, feet propped up on the back of a chair. “So how much longer do we have to be here?”

“At least another thirty minutes,” Michelle monotoned, not bothering to look up from the stack of cards in her hands. She fingered through them before picking one from the pile. “Just because Mr. Harrington had a meeting doesn’t mean we get to leave early. What’s the most commonly transplanted organ from living donors?”

Abe’s hand met the bell once again. “Kidney. Duh.”

Flash smirked and drew in another tally. “That’s seven to two, Penis. Sure you don’t wanna swap me as first alternate?”

Peter sat across from Abe at the front of the room, where a bell had been positioned between the two. He winced and rubbed his eyes with one hand. “I just... have a headache. Sorry, guys.”

”I bet it’s the stress of that Stark internship, right?” Just for fun, Flash added another tally to Abe’s side. Maybe two.

Groans flew around the room from wherever a student happened to have sprawled out. Flash heard one quiet laugh, so he counted it as a win.

Until Michelle interjected. “I can make you second alternate, you know.”

Flash only rolled his eyes at the empty threat while Peter shot her a grateful, somewhat dopey look. She bit her lip to keep from smiling and looked back down.

And that’s when Flash decided he needed out.

Laying the scoreboard on his desk, he rolled his neck and started climbing out of the seat. “I gotta go to the bathroom. Be back in like... uh, I don’t know. Tomorrow.”

He ignored Betty’s whining and Ned’s incredulous sputtering on his way out. Just as he pushed the door open, a crash wrenched his attention back to the front of the room.

Peter stood ramrod straight with the pale, wide-eyed expression of a man who’d just seen his Lamborghini totaled. Tight shoulders, white knuckles, clenched jaw. A chair lay on its side behind him. And he was staring straight at Flash. “I’ll go with you.”

Silence filled the room. Flash stared back at Peter, and then shifted his gaze to Michelle, and Ned, and Betty and Sally and anyone that could offer some kind of explanation. But all that met him were confused and mildly concerned stares.

So, hesitantly, he laughed. And Peter blinked, seeming to realize he’d made a scene. The tips of his ears started to turn red and he ducked down to pick up the chair. “I—I left something in my locker. So... since you’re going, I figured... I’d just. Just grab it,” he explained.

Uh huh. Sure. Flash saw straight through that lie, but wasn’t sure what to make of it. Something was obviously wrong—his face was still too tight, his movements too jerky. Flash narrowed his eyes. “Whatever, Parker.”

He turned on his heel and didn’t look back when he heard scurrying behind him. Maybe a small part of Flash was slightly alarmed at Peter’s behavior (not that he would ever admit that), but a larger, more familiar part of him was annoyed. Flash focused on the latter emotion.

Thanks to Peter tagging along, the hallway offered no relief from the uncomfortable atmosphere of the classroom. The boys walked in silence for about a half second before Peter began, “Listen, I don’t have a good feeling—“

”Then get back inside, Penis.” Flash was seriously baffled at the way Peter was acting. The guy was a total nerd, so of course he had some weird habits. Like how he’d quote Star Wars in everyday conversation (not that Flash actually understood the references). Or how he’d scrawl scientific formulas on his arms in pen. Or even how he’d make up some lousy excuse and then disappear from school for hours at a time.

But this... jumpy behavior? Like he was waiting for a bomb to go off? That was bizarre, even for Peter. And it was starting to freak Flash out.

_Not scared. Not scared. Annoyed._

Peter tried again. “Seriously, Flash, I think you need to go back to the team.”

They rounded a corner, Flash picking up his pace in a lame attempt to shake his pursuer off. “Why don’t _you_ need to go back to the team? And what happened to getting something from your locker?”

A whispered curse drew a smirk from Flash, but it quickly disappeared when Peter stepped in front of him. No longer was he shaky or uncertain or desperate. Instead, he was a steely barricade that stood between Flash and the lobby. “You need to leave. Now.”

Flash blinked. He didn’t even have time to come up with a retort, to process the situation before he was being pulled against the lockers. Dangling locks stabbed into his back and he barely breathed out “What the—“ before a hand slammed over his mouth, too.

Peter’s eyes met his, and Flash was thrown back into AP Chem from three weeks ago.

_Please keep your mouth shut._

Flash froze, hyper-aware of only the grip of stone pinning his wrist to the wall. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the thought _how is Peter this strong_ surfaced, but quickly fled when he caught the muted drone of conversation.

”—sure he’ll even pay the ransom?” A gruff voice was saying.

Flash strained to make out the response, but the voices were too far away. “—loaded, of course,” someone answered. “...dad’s probably got hundreds of ‘em... only one kid, though.”

An uneasy pit began to form in Flash’s stomach. Apparently, something a little more drastic was forming in Peter’s, because he leaned in to Flash’s ear and whispered, “Get back to the decathlon team. Stay there.”

And then Flash was being pulled away from the wall. Finally, he found his voice.

”What’s going _on?_ Did you _know_ about this—“

”No, no, just—“

”What about _you?”_ Flash’s question caught both of them off guard. But before he could stop himself, he rambled on. “It kinda sounds like their are some psychopathic guys wandering around the school. Are you just gonna _run into them_ and—“

”No, listen, I... I told you. I need to grab something from my locker. I’ll be super quick. Just...” Peter paused and narrowed his eyes like he was listening in on some conversation that Flash couldn’t hear. After a moment, he sighed. “Actually, you shouldn’t be—I mean, I don’t think we should split up. Just come with me.”

Once again, Peter grabbed Flash’s arm and tugged him down the hallway. Flash didn’t hesitate to shake himself out of the grip, hoping to preserve at least a fraction of the pride he had left. “You don’t need to _drag_ me everywhere, Penis,” he muttered.

Peter barely glanced at him, choosing to pick up the pace instead.

”What’s in your locker anyway that’s this important?” Flash scoffed. Hoped the waver in his voice wasn’t too obvious.

Peter continued to ignore him. Finally, they stopped in front of a locker, and he immediately went to work at the com. Flash rolled his eyes and rested his shoulder on the wall beside him. He was half-temped to slam the door shut when Peter pulled it open, but decided against it.

Peter reached in and grabbed a plastic grocery bag—or, plastic grocery _bags._ Flash could tell at least four, maybe five of them had been layered together and tied tightly at the top.

That wasn’t suspicious at all.

Flash eyed the package clutched in Peter’s hand warily and took a step back. “So you’re the drug runner for these guys?” He asked, half-joking.

Peter’s head shot up at the question. “ _What?_ No!” He gingerly closed the locker and then froze. His eyes scanned the area around him, stopping on Flash. “Do you hear anything?”

Confused, Flash listened. “Uh, no—“

”Yeah, me neither. Which doesn’t make any sense—“

”Because these aren’t the stealthiest guys,” Flash said, catching on. ”Did they leave? Get what they were looking for?”

Peter opened his mouth to answer, but a different voice beat him to it.

”Sure did, kid.”

_Click._

Flash’s breath caught in his throat. Next to him, Peter turned the shade of a brand new pair of Air Force 1s. 

_Annoyed, not..._

_Scared._

Holy crap, Flash was _scared._

A hand grabbed Flash from behind and yanked him around. He stumbled into a wall of dark, scratchy fabric. It smelled like smoke. Tasted like it, too. He gagged and peeled his face off of the black sweatshirt, craning his head up only to find himself inches from a shiny pistol.

It’s funny what being nose-to-nose with the barrel of a gun can do to a person. For Flash, it evoked a simple memory from when he was a child.

_Never point a gun at a person’s face, Eugene._

_But... Mom, it’s just a_ Nerf _gun_.

_Doesn’t matter. Never at the face._

This gun was very deliberately aimed at Flash’s face. And it was, unfortunately, not a Nerf gun.

”This the right kid, Damion?” the gunman muttered. He held the shoulder of Flash’s shirt in a tight fist, close enough he could see freckles dotting the man’s double chin. He was short and pudgy, and if he weren’t holding a gun to Flash’s head, he might’ve mentioned that. 

Flash glanced at the other guy—Damion?—standing behind them, who was now eyeing Flash’s sneakers. Alexander McQueens, easily $500. He winced at his ridiculously obvious designer shoes. Maybe at his next kidnapping, he’d borrow a pair Parker’s.

”Yeah. This is the kid.”

Damion didn’t need a gun to look intimidating. He towered over everyone present, pale and draped in black like Slender Man. Probably eager to kill like Slender Man, too. Without warning, he grabbed Peter from the wall and held him by a lock of hair. “You’re gonna be a problem for us, buddy,” he hissed. “Wasn’t planning on two guests.”

Peter didn’t even flinch, only set his jaw and glanced between the men and Flash. He still held the bag in a white-knuckled grasp, but neither of the men seemed to notice it.

Pudgy turned Flash around and poked the gun into his back. “We got enough ropes for the two of ‘em?”

Damion rubbed his eyes with one hand before reaching into the inner pocket of his bulky coat. He pulled out a burlap sack and tossed it to Pudgy, who barely caught it with his free hand. “No. We don’t. Just tie the one up and we’ll figure something out for the second kid.” 

Flash had just enough time to think _oh no_ before he was shoved against the lockers and a canvas bag was jerked over his head. His breath caught, and he immediately started to struggle out of the man’s grasp. “Get this _off,_ I swear—“

A blow to the stomach sent him to his knees, effectively cutting off his rambling as well. “Voice down, kid. Or I’ll knock you out next time.”

Between the sack over his head and the sharp ache spreading throughout his torso, it was a little hard to concentrate. Hard to hear. Hard to—whoa, it was really hard to _breathe. His lungs wouldn’t work, he couldn’t—  
_

“Don’t touch him,” a voice snarled. Was that... was that Peter? Probably not. He couldn’t think straight. Flash groaned in pain and doubled over from his spot on the floor while he waited for a wave of nausea to pass. He was only half aware of his hands being pulled behind his back, rough rope binding them together.

”You’re not in the position to be giving demands, kid,” someone replied. Flash couldn’t really differentiate between voices right now. Couldn’t care, either.

_”Hey—“_

A crash made Flash flinch, and suddenly the hands pinning his behind his back were gone. He concentrated on breathing, and with each passing second, became a little more aware.

”—lose some weight, buddy,” someone was saying. A voice swore. It sounded like Pudgy, but he couldn’t be sure. Something crashed against the lockers. Something else ripped. Flash could only kneel on the floor and stare at the inside of a canvas bag, shaking like a leaf. He pulled at the ropes around his wrists, but they wouldn’t budge.

Another thud drew a whimper from Flash. It sounded like flesh against flesh, fist against face. What was going on? Did Peter try to fight? Were they—were they going to _kill_ him?

Gosh, Flash couldn’t listen to one of his classmates get murdered. Even if he _didn’t_ like him.

Another crash. A yelp of pain, then... silence. Flash squeezed his eyes shut. Bit his lip to stop it from quivering. He smelled blood. Nobody spoke. Maybe nobody _could_ speak. He didn’t know.

Footsteps padded toward him. He kept his head tucked to his chest, hunched down, trying to be as small as possible. And then the bag was ripped off his head, and Flash still didn’t open his eyes, because he didn’t want to _see it he didn’t want to see Peter Parker laying in a pool of his own blood even if he_ was _an annoying nerd—_

“Flash.” That was Peter’s voice. His eyes shot open.

Peter was kneeling in front of him, a hand resting on his arm and a very concerned look on his face. “You okay?”

Flash couldn’t speak. His eyes widened as he looked past Peter’s shoulder at the scene behind him. On the ground lay Damion and Pudgy, completely unconscious, or—

“How’s your stomach? Are you feeling nauseous, or... or having a hard time breathing? I forgot what Nat told me about blunt force trauma to the abdomen, I should remember...”

Peter continued to run his mouth and pester Flash with questions while he crawled behind him to untie his wrists. But Flash didn’t listen to a word he said. Only gazed at the two men inches in front of him, who only moments before had been holding him at gunpoint. Who had sucker punched him in the gut. Who had planned to snatch him from his own school and... and probably stuff him in a van and—

He took a deep breath. It hurt his stomach, but calmed him a bit. Collected his thoughts. He watched a trickle of blood run down Damion’s chin, drip onto the floor.

”There,” Peter said. He bundled up the rope and tossed it in front of them. Flash shifted into a sitting position and rubbed his wrists. He still didn’t talk.

”Do you...” Peter cleared his throat and moved so he was sitting across from him. “Do you wanna say something?”

Flash looked up. “How did you do that?”

Peter winced, like he’d been anticipating the question. “I mean, the guy had the gun trained on you, and I kinda took them by surprise. I guess they just didn’t expect me to attack first.”

Flash stared at him. “So... you’re telling me. You’re telling me you took out two adult men, one armed with a gun. With your bare hands.”

Peter wouldn’t look at him. “Yeah. I was lucky, I guess.”

Nope. Absolutely not. “Lucky? All the luck in the _world_ couldn’t help you take down these guys. If I can shove you around, they can too.”

”Look, I don’t know how I did it. Probably a ton of adrenaline. But just be thankful you’re not on your way to some abandoned warehouse right now, okay?” Peter stood up. Offered Flash a hand, which he pushed aside. “I’m gonna call the police,” he sighed.

While Peter walked off down the hall, Flash remained on the floor and picked at his nails. A nervous habit he successfully quit when he was nine, because his dad thought it was _gross and immature, Eugene._ Ha. He couldn’t pry his eyes from the bodies in front of him, wondering if they were really... if Peter _killed_ them. He must’ve hit pretty hard.

None of this made sense. Flash was too shaken to figure out how Penis Parker, of all people, took down his kidnappers. Too hurting to even remember that _Thompson men don’t cry, Eugene,_ because here he was sitting in the middle of the school hallway, frozen to the floor, salty tears clinging to his lips and dripping off his chin.

 _These men wanted to kidnap him._ He choked in a breath. _They wanted to kill Peter._ Wow, he hadn’t cried this much since his dog died in the fourth grade. _And Peter... took them out._

Peter’s the nerd that gets knocked around in the school hallways. He isn’t the person who takes out an armed man and his friend.

Flash did not get it.

He was just about to get up, plaster on a smirk, and stroll out to the parking lot when a plastic bag next to Pudgy caught his attention. The bag Peter needed _so badly_ for some reason, apparently forgotten now.

It was slightly torn, which was honestly impressive considering the number of bags Peter layered together. A spot of... red fabric peeked out. _Red fabric?_ He would’ve gone to investigate, but stopped himself. The kid did just save his life. The least he could do was respect his privacy.

So he grabbed the bag and met Peter in the lobby, who’d just finished a conversation on his phone. He noticed Flash and gave him a surprised, even relieved, smile. The expression quickly turned panicked when he noticed what Flash was carrying.

”You dropped this,” Flash said. He tossed the package in Peter’s direction, who now looked shocked. “Don’t worry, I didn’t peek. Was probably some weird nerd board game anyway.”

Peter stared at him for a second, then smiled. A genuine, toothy grin. “Thanks, Flash.”

Flash looked away. Stuck his hands in his pockets. “Thanks, too.”

If it were possible for his face to get brighter, it did. “No problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woo! Honestly this chapter was really harddd. I made a really big change like halfway through so I had to rewrite a lot of stuff and then I had major writer’s block and just. It was rough, you guys.  
> But I have no idea what I’m doing for the next chapter!! I mean I have a couple ideas floatin around but idk if I’m gonna actually use any of them. So if you have any requests, now is the time!! If I don’t use it as the next chapter, I’ll totally do it as a one-shot or another fic or somethin.  
> Please leave a kudo and a comment!! That’s how I know you like my stuff :0 and it’s what makes me want to write.  
> I love you!! You’re all so wonderful!!


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